Pot hole summer.

I apologize for the glaring discrepancy between this post and the last. 
But you see, in my youthful, hopeful, rosy-cheeked return I believed that (somehow) going to Europe for 3 months would make things...well...dissapear.
Or at least better.
(Better would be nice.)
That's all I was hoping for.


But I overlooked this minor, but rather pervasive issue. It is called men. And as Fleet Foxes so wisely croon at us, "memory is a fickle siren song." But in this case the siren's name is man and it isn't pretty. Or a mermaid, even.
This strangely absent but ever-present parasite, man, is the diagnosis for a little phenomenon Brookie has termed "pot hole summer."
It afflicts my bunnies and I in a most vicious strain and finds us invalids on delicious summer afternoons curled up on many  beds in the house in varying configurations (piles, that is) of fury, comfort, or dry-eyed (but drained) staring.


Because, as Fleet Foxes also remind us, "I don't know what to do."
Oh hell.


memory is a fickle siren song. 
blah blah blah blah.
It is interesting to me that everyone I know is either lovey dovey engaged to be married or breaking up. It is also interesting that some people fall in love and get married and others fall in love and get round-house kicked in the face.


Men.
Pot holes.
Summer fun.
Blah blah blah blah blah.

I am back with my bunnies.

Which means...

The banana is back in her happy, hearty habitat...

Thank you, Courtney Jones, for this stunning portrait. A wonderful likeness, I think.

...AND that we got a bunny.

Because sometimes you get home from Europe at 1 in the morning, and when you wake up you realize you need a fluffy little replacement boyfriend that curls up in the cutest ball and hops around the tree in the front yard and nibbles carrots from your fingertips.

I love her I love her I love her.

And we (the bunnies and I) are ready for summer fun!
Which means
the first order of business upon returning to the Utah place (after the bunny) was to see the baby elephant at the zoo.

Hello, summer (or what's left of you). I'm ready to play.

Love, loveliness, and catching crawdads too,

Banana

P.S. All pictures (except the one from my Holga) are via Matt's lovely old camera.

Eight reasons to visit Croatia.

 

Happy Holidays.

Ghost Venice.

Did you know

Venice

is a ghost town?

Love, reliving my travels already, and coming home in a week,

Banana

Miss Holga Remembers

Remember when I was in Geneva? Me neither, hardly. Train to train to hostel to hostel to museum to Mcdonald's to museum has done a number on my memory. Tonight I spliced Stockholm and Copenhagen into one big, clean city and expected to find part of one as I left the other. Trippy.
But Miss Holga remembers.

I finally got a couple rolls developed when we popped back to London for the HARRY POTTER premiere (yes yes yes yes yes yes yes!!!) and got to look at them today. The plastic lady is still a little stubborn at times, but I'm happy with some things she's decided to do. All sun flares, discoloration, and vignetting are natural, of course, and I couldn't be happier.

So here's how I saw Switzerland in analogue:

I miss speaking french.

I miss my study abroad friends.

I miss Professors Hudson and Olivier.

I miss croissants and baguettes and chocolate chocolate chocolate.

I do not miss Geneva being the (second) most expensive city in the UNIVERSE.

But it's nice to remember.

Banana

...And then Anna DAINES ate a DANISH in DENMARK

......And it was everything I ever dreamed it would be.

I realize this picture is terrible, and that is why I like it.

I'm pretty sure some English person stuck an "i" in my surname arbitrarily somewhere along the way, which means that I, in fact, am a DANE! 

And that, along with the fact that Denmark is literally the happiest place on earth, makes me feel right at home. This city is so effortlessly cool and clean and chill. Really really beautiful and a little mysterious. I love it! I was in Dublin this morning, and unfortunately I can't spend more time loving Copenhagen. You see, I must say bye bye to the homeland (if it is, in fact, a homeland to me. I'm not sure. Ask my dad.) and head to Stockholm tomorrow.

Dalmation! I have to go to Sweden. Crimeny.

Just kidding, I get to go to Sweden,

Banana

P.S. I love Ireland

P.P.S. Guess what banana is in Danish!

Things I learned in Scotland

• No matter how hard I try, my Scottish accent sounds like a man (or, more frequently, an ogre)
• It's perfectly acceptable to cheerily ask someone, "just a little tiddle?" as they enter the restroom.
• The BEST fish and chips in THE WORLD are found at Canalside Chip Shop in Fort Augustus on the banks of Loch Ness. Go ahead. Prove me wrong.
• Incidentally, Nessie is real.
• Sometimes your shoes get stolen at the hostel and you have to trek in bad H & M flip flops around the wet, windy Scottish highlands. But really they're under the bed.
• Clansmen are feisty! ( i.e. Glencoe massacre)
• William Wallace could never have heroically uttered "Freedom!" at the end of his life because his man parts were severed and shoved in his mouth before he was quartered. (Pardon me, that was graphic)
• Despite the great appeal of beauty and bagpipes galore, two weeks just isn't soon enough to see the people I love.

Love, haggis, and "sure I'll go on a pub crawl...but I don't drink,"

Banana

Happy Fourth of July

I celebrated the day celebrating our Independence from Britain...

in Britain.



We explored Edinburgh on a strangely sunny Scottish day. [Photo here]

whoops.
Banana